


A Waltz for Sherlock and John

by phdJohnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Post-The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9352463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdJohnlock/pseuds/phdJohnlock
Summary: Who they really are.





	

It didn't feel strange, being back. He’d kind of thought it would have, with the baby and all, and Mary’s words hanging over his head. New wallpaper and a relatively stab-mark-free mantelpiece and a crib in the upstairs bedroom should have felt odd, maybe, but it didn't.  


John gently eased his finger out of Rosie’s grasp, fiercely tight even in sleep. He smoothed his thumb over her cheek, smooth and pink and plump. It was never what he'd expected, to raise a baby in Baker Street. Yet there she lay, tuckered out and content. And here he stood, feeling remarkably similar.  


The bare floor was cold under his stockinged feet. He padded to the wardrobe to pull out his plaid sleep bottoms and changed, tossing his trousers in the wash basket. In the dim light, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. John was no expert on appearance, but he fancied the worry lines in his forehead a bit deeper than they used to be. He scrunched his face, poking at the soft flesh where it wrinkled. A soldier. He saw the face of a soldier, one who’d fought difficult battles, who had seen victories tempered by tragic loss. But if there were more wrinkles, more physical signs of hardship, there were also more laugh lines - more crinkles near his eyes from smiling, and surer, gentler hands to hold his daughter, and a stronger heart to contain more love.  


A soft strain of music floated up through the hallway, pulling John from his thoughts.  


More love.  


He padded down the stairs, and as he entered the sitting room Sherlock turned to face him, playing a familiar song. Though his eyes were closed, he swayed gently with the rhythm, a three-quarters beat, and John felt his own body move in sympathy. Across an eternity of years, the music swayed and pulled them in.  


At a distance of three feet apart, John closed his own eyes. He reached out with his right hand. In a moment, it was enclosed in Sherlock’s hand, and he felt the other hand come to rest on his waist. John brought his left hand to Sherlock’s shoulder and they moved, the flat gone silent but the music playing on in John’s heart, in the way Sherlock’s fingers curled against him.  


When John opened his eyes Sherlock was looking at him with adoration, his lips pressed together in a faint smile even as he pulled their bodies closer together, even as he leaned down to press his mouth to John’s. And as they continued to sway they kissed, gentle and sweet, until Sherlock brought his hand to cradle John’s head and John broke away with giddy relief, tangling his fingers with Sherlock’s and pulling them to his chest. Their eyes met and John thought he might drown, might pull Sherlock right down with him, and all he could see there was more love, more love, more love.


End file.
